The Life Underneath
by King Hadbar
Summary: -I don’t know who I am when you aren’t around-
1. Fragments

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"I can hold on"  
she says  
and  
holds the light high above her head.

The flash  
The ignition of the flame  
takes me back  
to the day  
we ended her life

or merely ruined it.

It has taken me years to feel something.

It has taken this.

Now the flash recedes  
and she is visible  
beyond the burning paper  
clutched between her metal fingers.

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Two hours before sunrise.

I wonder how they would feel, how angry they would get, if they knew what we did in here. If they knew that while they slept, the architect of their civilization's collapse snuck into the perimeter of their village to undress and attempt to fuck one of their own, night after night. There is very little chance of them understanding and an even smaller chance of them accepting it.

And yet  
we keep doing it  
going deeper  
and  
deeper  
and

Clearly not much has changed. These are demonstrations of change. Leaps of faith and displays of courage. I can be weak around her  
if she can show me what I have turned her into.

It isn't happening  
or it hasn't happened yet  
though it is close  
very close  
to finally hitting me.

She is waking me up  
and i love the feeling  
more than anything  
i  
love  
what she does for me  
though no matter how far we get  
It won't end well.

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We don't talk about it  
the disconnect  
between the man she trusts now and the man who forced her into a glass tube and gleefully pulled a switch  
that would have turned her into a monster  
if her friends hadn't saved her  
and everything hadn't exploded  
and her friends hadn't carried her away

But  
maybe it was for the best

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or maybe she places all of the blame on my  
Uncle.

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The flames curl closer  
to the steel  
Unstoppable  
unless  
she stops it  
and she won't stop it

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It doesn't hurt her.

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Yet.

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My hands wrap around her cold hips  
and bring her forward  
her stomach touching my closed lips  
her fur keeping me warm  
as she lets go of the fire

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"Snively…"  
Her hand touches my head  
pulls me even closer  
the residual heat burning  
my flesh  
but  
surprisingly  
I don't mind

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I don't know who I am,  
when you aren't around.

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Can't say it.

Her cold metal flesh  
resists  
a tighter grip

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Under it

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she is still

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only a child

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and halfway to the floor

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there is nothing left to burn  
and

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it goes dark.


	2. Construction

Even before the round reaches my chest, I being to wonder where it all went wrong.

Even before the sound reaches my ears, I go back.

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And I fall back

They had been closing in on all sides. As soon as I sent the retreat order and all SWATbots returned to the city, the attacks started. Buildings blew up. Wells went dry, right after they caught far and burned the surrounding area to the ground. The reports all said they were accidents. I knew better.  
This I expected a lot sooner but these Mobians are slow on the get-up-and-go. Even the fastest one of them. Fucking rodents need to justify every action. No instinct at all until the floodgates open and then they'll eat through steel to get to your throat. No matter how long it takes.  
My inherited kingdom shrank. And kept shrinking. Inch by inch the rebels drew closer to the heart of the city.

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I wasn't cut out for this. I never learned. I wasn't the driver, I only observed. The body of Robotropolis was dying after my Uncle passed, after that fat bloated body tumbled backwards out of the window and fell forty stories and went all splat on the oiled concrete he loved so dearly. But he broke through the bottom. The ship was sinking. Many wanted me dead. Panic was fierce.

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She

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Time. I needed to buy some time.

back

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The bullet has to have entered by now.

She takes a moment, redraws the map in her mind and marks it on the page in broad, violent slashes. "This," she grunts, shoving the map of Robotropolis back to me. "Or nothing."  
Nothing too complicated. She wants my territory hung, drawn, and quartered. My choices are to be surrounded and killed, or to be driven out and killed. "You'll have to take nothing, then."  
"This is fair."  
"No, _mine_ was fair. This is me voluntarily walking into a slaughterhouse."  
"Prefer to be forced?"  
"Yes. I would prefer to be forced. You know what? I'm going to give you a dictionary, and I'm going to highlight the word 'compromise.'"  
"Thanks, it is uncommonly difficult with you." She leans against the wall, twitching her head to force the hair out of her eyes. "I would kill to have a dictionary."  
It takes me longer to redraw, because of her markings. She knows what I'm doing but she insists on the semantics. Jousting. Fucking with me. "Hmm." Because I… "Here." Ha, well. "This? Is this sufficient, Princess?"  
The map of Mobotropolis shakes in her hands. She's sleep deprived, having trouble reading the page, jaw grinding left to right. But she nods, satisfied for the time being. The map folds into her vest pocket. "I'll run it by the council."  
"Yes, that will go over well." Keeping one hand behind my back over the weapon on my belt, I pull out my last two cigarettes. One finds my mouth. A second hangs in open air. "Would you care to join me before you leave, Miss Acorn?"  
A smoldering look from her confirms what this gesture means, a second before she takes the cigarette out of my mouth and breaks it in half. "Don't smoke around me." She stomps it into ash. "It's bad enough you got Bunnie started."  
"You think that's bad, you should see the other bad habits I have given her."

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Ha

Her eyes, her venom right there, it would have knocked me flat had I not received a worse look from another, for years and years. I've taken it and taken it and taken it and become an expert at taking it. Repeated trauma does this.

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You go numb.

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And then you laugh.

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Only now it hurts to laugh, so you don't laugh.

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Sure knocked flat now, huh? Look at you, boy, all knocked flat. If your Uncle's fist can't do it, something else can.

Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesh it hurts to even remember talking about her. Bunnie. Your Bunnie. You can only dream of fucking her but that's your own fault, isn't it?  
This is, too.  
You cared yet you didn't want to care did you?  
Bunnie could have bought you the time. You tried very hard but you didn't want to admit to loving her at the same time you were using her. Your Bunnie your Bunnie your

And you place your hand over your chest where the opening is and the pain hits, and it hits you hard, hard enough to keep you down on the ground where you're breathing in the dirt and you can feel the particles going into your lungs well one and a half lungs anyway and dropping and air isn't getting to your brain and you're getting dizzy, yet there's still enough energy to get angry, oh so much of it is anger, and your teeth grit and you bite back the pain so you can fully appreciate this rage, and this rage covers your entire body, especially the invaded part that is slowly killing you, and you hate yourself and the mess you created and you want the rage to stop but it is the only thing keeping you alive right now, and right now is the most important time of your life because it is your last moment on Mobius, the very last chance you'll have to make a difference, no not a difference, the last chance to _make them_ _pay_.

Make them all pay.

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And then another bullet fires.

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Behind the bullet isn't flame or burnt gunpowder or the hammer striking the primer or the smoking barrel or the finger that pressed it.  
It isn't even the splintered air behind it, but that's closer.

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A void follows. And before, this void was only coming slowly, but now

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Now

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it is too fast to escape.

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But I try anyway.

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And I move as the dirt rushes out of the way of the projectile. Inches from my bald head. That first round spun me into the shade. Into cover.  
My head, anyway.  
It hurts to breathe but I can't very well stop that, not for much longer. Every intake is swallowing a long chain of razor wire and every release is someone yanking it out of me. My throat hurts why does my throat hurt the sand the sand don't lift your head don't lift your fucking head or it's all over.

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Acorn

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makes eye contact with me, her face contorted in such malice that the back of my head feels it. "Is she going with you?"  
I don't know which answer would be the correct one. "Let's see if I make it out of the city alive first."  
"You'll leave?"  
"Yes."  
"You'll take everything with you?"  
"… Yes."  
The wind kicks up, blowing dust around us. Fifty feet from the wall, the grass sways in the wind under the line of sun, unblocked by the smog. Somewhere, hidden there, is her backup.  
My hand tightens around the weapon.

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My weapon

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"Are you worried about the summit meeting?"  
She coughs over a gasp, turning away. She is worried, but she's more concerned about what else Bunnie has told me. "We'll pound out a fair deal for everyone."  
"I have no doubt."  
Sally pushes away from the wall. "I'm surprised you didn't try anything."  
"If I had?"  
"My backup would have cut you down before you could grab your boot knife. Or whatever you're holding behind your back. A gun?"  
"Something equally comforting." Females. Sneaky no matter what the species. "Good boyfriend you have there."  
She smiles, the illusion holding steady. "Better believe it." She looks off in the distance, towards the Ruins, perhaps curving her sight around the globe, searching for Sonic's real location, wondering if the rest of the planet is taking the news as well as they did, and forgiving her for keeping it from them for so long.

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The Ruins

Acorn takes her leave without closing the conversation.

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I walked home through the Ruins.

Bitch.

This is where she was looking. This spot. The spot where I would die.

One cutthroat bitch and her father would be proud

But,  
one thing.

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She might have set me up.  
But she did not pull the trigger.

I know who this is.

I've felt this bullet before.  
My hand grips my weapon and pulls it out from my belt as the other hoists my body upright, as if pulling a rope wrapped around my neck. No footsteps imbed the sand. I glide  
out of cover into direct sunlight and towards a quicker way of dying.  
I've made a mistake  
oh fuck  
I've already made a mistake. My weapon, the only chance I've got  
is in my right hand  
on the side I am hit.  
You fucking fool.  
Now you have to remember which muscles still work and which ones are completely fucking severed  
NO time for that is there  
My wrist rotates and I lift my arm and it still hurts enough to blind me but my arm is up it is up and my weapon is above my head for the shooter to see and he can see my thumb over the switch now press it PRESS IT and it works I think the light is green now. He can see the green light.

Now breathe in

Take a deep breath now

And release.  
"NACK!"

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No third shot is fired.

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It's a long time before he comes out into the open. Days pass. The treacherous snake. He looks the same, still dressed in the same stupid outfit he always wears, minus the hat and now he walks with a limp and I can take pleasure and credit for that. "S'pose this makes us even." Blood pours out of my mouth. The words probably didn't even come out right. Nack doesn't laugh. "Apologies. Only meant to get yer attention. My intel is off." It's getting tougher to see him, but I'm pretty sure he has both hands in his pockets around two controls to his rifle, and the headset with the eyepiece is what his high-powered scope sees and it is my head and he is ready to fire if I make a move. "Slipping," almost ends it. I hang on, grasping at strands, at stars, at the dying fire. "I thought you'd make it, Sniv. I wanted you to, anyway. It could have been some fun, eh? Might've eventually worked together. Still'd have to cut you for that slash to my leg. Otherwise, bygones and all that. No grudges. Nothing personal." Acorn? What's she giving you? What did she promise you, Nack? Stop being all blurry and tell me. "Forgiveness." Typical. Choosing a lesser evil for a greater one. "What a hypocrite," does end it. My chest flattens to my spine. No more reserves, no more rage, no more fuel. I am the boat. I am my city. "Hey," Nack says as I fall to my knees and he readjusts his sights. "Gimme the detonator, and" he takes it from me, silent. He isn't asking where the machine is, the machine to give them their people back. Did they already find it? Is that surprise? Is that surprise or frustration that cut him off? I hope it was both. Clicks. I can hear clicks. He's trying to deactivate the detonator. Come on, one more. I can say one more thing. A convulsion is coming.

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"Already

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pressed

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Two minute

delay."

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Nack doesn't hear me over the explosions, and doesn't move in time to dodge the boot knife sailing for his neck, but I'm off and I miss I'm sure but I don't see his reaction and I collapse. Everything misses. My bombs aren't even close to the Ruins but it is enough to scare him off and he leaves me to die, slowly, as the city is annihilated, the surprise ruined. I was going to do this after I left, either to celebrate the new leaders or to take some of the rebels out, depending on my mood, I might not have done anything, who knows. His third shot probably clipped me. My head is warm. Is that the sand or the sun? No, no, there is no sun, but it's bright, it's way too bright to be completely dark, it was like when  
he died and you saw him screaming at you and about to hit you again but he didn't get the chance because you were running towards him and your palms were sinking into his chest and you thought you were fucked you were so fucked until you hit solid mass and sent dear Uncle flying backwards towards the window that you didn't think would break but it did he broke right through and as it shattered it got bright and it's bright right now and I know it's strength I didn't know I had.  
I knew for one second,  
and it was beautiful.

You should say something.  
Pretend she's here.  
Tell her what you see.

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I see - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


	3. Fabric

-one final way out, that is to purge these wicked thoughts, jump through the glass band-saw into open space, let it finally hit me tear off the skin and see if the bones come with it, cut out the ego and let's see what holds up. If I remember how. If I can reclaim the grip I used to have. Some of that ignorance. Here we go, don't worry about thinking it just because she can't hear it, it is time to stop editing yourself down, just get it out get it all out. Right, right, okay, where did it go wrong, I don't have the time to figure out where it went wrong anyway anyway if you were really here listening to this you would be bored already so I'll get going. I was never honest. If I was ever honest, I would have been killed. Earlier than now, I mean. Living with my uncle all alone in the palace of bones and ash made me into the king of liars, the best you would ever meet. You you you you… Let's see, what can I say about you that I haven't already said? Well, possibly all that stuff again, and now it will sound genuine. We had the blind luck of meeting up and not killing each other. The self-destructive behavior helped: you trusted me, I decided not to kill you. What we were doing wasn't like co-creating an empire or orchestrating the death of one individual or many individuals, this spiraled into its own boundaries, and so deliciously unpredictable, taking up my entire view so I didn't know where the fuck my compass was. How long was it, two months? Before I shoved my tongue into your mouth. Where did I get the balls to do that? There haven't been humans on this planet for over twenty years, and before that, I didn't do anything but work. I'm not even sure if I did it right, fuck, I didn't plan it beforehand and my breath, _shit_, how did my mouth taste? I planned on stopping but there was a metal arm around my head and a severe sucking motion keeping me planted there, and you tell you the truth I didn't want to leave that, I could have suffocated then and it would have been a lot better than suffocating now. And your departure, classic, gone when I open my eyes again and I'm still clinging to the warmth of your body and the pain forming into a bruise on the back of my head. Strong arm. Reality was even worse after seeing you. I'll never know why you did it, why you appeared to enjoy it, why you encouraged it. That's what I've been told about females, they'll choose the absolute worst thing for them just to prove that they can do anything. If I asked you why, could you tell me? Here's something you don't know: I celebrated the day we met, every month. If I couldn't meet up with you, I would stay at home and fantasize about, heh, well, you know what I would fantasize. Okay okay okay I know what I want to say. I want to say I'm sorry. And don't think this is just because we can't, you know, but this is because you can't do it with anyone. Not that I would want you to, just, okay, fuck this sucks. Back then, I must have, well, I was mad. I was angry at all you little brats. Anyone would have done. I picked you first, I don't remember why. Maybe because you were the cutest. Or I was threatened the most by you. Putting you into that chamber and flipping the switch was once-upon-a-time a fond fucking memory, but now I look back on it and I feel sick, I get sick to my stomach and I try to block it out and I can't, I can't do it because more prominent in my mind, more than the night we met, was the night I tried to fuck you, fueled by a sort of lust that I had never known or that normally couldn't be quenched by my own spit and three minutes of privacy and something to catch the mess. I didn't plan on it ending so quickly, of course, I planned on drawing it out a bit, but I didn't plan on lots of things and I didn't plan on the roadmap of my failure, physical signs of what I had done. See, that's the thing, nothing your bitch princess could preach, no matter how many times your rodents friends could win, the one thing that pulled me into line was trying to kiss your clit and instead hitting icy steel. Ending one inch below your umbilical scar. Everything set in stone. Signs that I was too quick and even the hedgehog was too slow. From now on, to remember the good times with you would mean to remember everything I have fucked up and prevented from happening because I mistook carelessness for freedom. I didn't want to keep anything with me. And I went home and first I was angry at you like you had planned it to turn me around, but that look on your face, that look of curiosity, like what was I going to do next, what would I normally do with a human woman. And the anger transferred inward until he started yelling and I couldn't lie to him anymore, I couldn't, and I told him about us. I expected a beating, but he didn't move. It occurred to me, we had just entered a new arena. The playing field had changed. He was going to have me executed. As soon as he regained cognitive control. But I got it back first, didn't I? I don't know how long I stood there, but long enough to have the jagged pattern of the glass burned into my mind. I shouldn't have done it. I should have lied and given you the technology to turn you back to normal, make you all better, but it was too late for oops' and oh my's and all that shit and it was the only leverage I had left I couldn't do it then I had to draw it out long enough for me to escape because the entire planet was looking to have me cut open and turned inside out, their only chance for a satisfying sense of justice since I robbed it from you ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh finally finally I'm being lifted up and it's getting brighter and a light is turning one all of this is scary certainly but there is an oddly familiar flavor to it like I am returning to a place that I was an idiot for ever leaving


End file.
